


Non Omnis Moriar

by littleleotas



Category: Disney - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Disneyland Paris, Murder, Phantom Manor, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleleotas/pseuds/littleleotas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ravenswood family moves to Thunder Mesa during the California gold rush. Years later, the house is haunted by a gruesome figure known only as The Phantom and a mournful bride. What happened in between?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non Omnis Moriar

**Author's Note:**

> The tiny blurbs of story associated with Phantom Manor at Disneyland Paris have always fascinated me. I thought fleshing out the story myself was better than sitting around waiting for someone else to do it.
> 
> Many thanks to Christina for beta reading! This is my first ~real fic (other than a thing that happened when I was 12 but I like to pretend that didn't happen) so please be nice. Not that I'm expecting the Disney parks-related fic fandom to be particularly busy. Or...existent.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed. Melanie didn't notice what hour it was. Melanie didn't take notice of much anymore. She felt as if she was constantly hearing the clock chiming, as if it – as if she were stuck in some netherworld where time had both stopped and was constantly rushing by.

Of course, she wasn't yet, but she would be. Melanie didn't know this.

The clock chimed, and Melanie glared steadfastly at the floor, biting her tongue so hard she thought it would break. She tried to focus on the sound of the chime rather than his voice, and she was getting better at it, but she still couldn't keep herself from listening. “It's no use, Melanie. Though I admire your spirit, it will do you no good.” _Say nothing_ , she told herself, _don't give him the satisfaction_.

“You are fighting a battle you've already lost, child.” _Nothing, not one word, Melanie_. “We can end this foolish game right now.”

“No.” Melanie heard the word spill from her mouth. _Damn. So close._ “No. You haven't won and you won't. No.”

He made a sound that would have been a sigh, had he any breath to exhale. “Have it your way.”

The dust covering the ballroom disappeared as the room was suddenly bathed in daylight, the long dining table covered in cakes and pastries, ladies in fine dresses and men in dashing suits poured through the front door. Melanie sank into a corner, tears forming in her eyes but not falling down her cheeks.

The clock still chimed.

*

*

_May 1852_

“Are we there _now_?” Melanie's eyes had been glued to the window of the carriage from the moment they left Pennsylvania. She had somehow managed to keep bouncing in her seat the entire time while still staring out the window. Martha Ravenswood had long since given up trying to get Melanie to sit still and in fact had been mostly ignoring little Melanie's questions along the way to California. “Will there be horses? Are we going to live in a big house? Will there be any children for me to play with or just Daddy's boring old friends? Do I have to go to school still? Can I have a horse?” All these and many more questions had been met with silence and the occasional futile glare.

This particular question, however, Martha decided was worth answering. “Yes, Melanie. We are almost there.” Melanie beamed and kept bouncing in her seat. Henry Ravenswood had left his wife and daughter several years before in the hopes of striking it rich in the California gold rush. Always a fortunate man, Henry found a substantial gold mine in a mountain in Thunder Mesa, and, after founding his own mining company and building a suitable house, could finally bring his family to their new home.

Turning the first corner into the town, Martha could see both the mountain she owed her new fortune and the house her husband had built with that fortune. Three years ago, when Henry left her with an inexhaustible 7 year-old girl and not much else, she never thought this venture would turn out to be worth her trouble. She was, as a matter of fact, still unsure. But there it was, at any rate: tangible evidence that Henry had at least done something in all this time.

Thunder Mesa looked entirely unremarkable on first glance. Before Henry's Thunder Mesa Mining Company, there was little to distinguish Thunder Mesa from any other tiny Californian town. A saloon, a sheriff's office, a tumbleweed or two, the usual suspects. There were some out-of-place larger houses in more East Coast styles just outside the center of the town, undoubtedly Henry's and his accomplices' doing.

The carriage pulled up to the house furthest up the hill, overlooking Thunder Mountain. Melanie did not even wait for the driver to open the carriage door, flinging it open herself and bounding out into the bright California sunshine and up the stairs to the front door. Melanie stopped abruptly, turned around, and yelled after her mother, “Shall I knock?” Martha, easing herself out of the carriage with her hand on the driver's arm, waved her daughter on. The door was easily four or five times as tall as Melanie, and her tiny hand hardly made a noise on the solid wood door. Frowning at it, Melanie pounded the door with her fists, but still hardly made a sound. She drew her foot back to kick it just as Martha reached the door herself. Martha put a hand on her daughter's shoulder, smiled, and rang the bell.

The door opened and Melanie threw her arms in the air and yelled, “Daddy!”

The butler blinked, looked at Melanie, then Martha, then back to Melanie, and tried to conceal a smile. “Mr. Ravenswood is in the parlor, Miss Ravenswood.” Melanie grinned and dashed past the butler.

Martha sighed, more to herself than anyone else, “Melanie, you don't know where the parlor is.” The butler smiled sympathetically, bowed his head, and stepped back to allow Martha to enter. As the butler closed the door, Martha turned. “I'm so sorry, the journey seems to have robbed me of my manners. You must be Jones.” The butler bowed his head again.

“Jasper Jones, madam. At your service.”

Martha glanced at Melanie, who had realized that she did not know where the parlor was, and was shifting nervously back and forth. “It appears that we might need directions to the parlor, Jones.”

Jones attempted to lead the way down a hallway to the right, but once he started in one direction, Melanie would race down as far as she could before Jones cleared his throat and turned in a different direction. As the party made its final turn toward the parlor, Melanie saw Henry through the open parlor doors, squeaked happily, and ran down the hallway. Henry was immersed in conversation with an imposing-looking gentleman and did not acknowledge Melanie until she had thrown her arms around his stomach, humming cheerfully. The business man chuckled, “I suppose the rest of your day is booked. I will call again tomorrow.”

Henry, attempting to pry the precocious 10 year-old from his side, said, “Always a pleasure, Mr. Hanson.” As Jones showed the business man out, Melanie beamed up at her father.

“Daddy I'm so happy to see you and I missed you so much and I'm so happy to be here and I missed you!” Melanie said, all in one breath.

Henry smiled down at her. “I missed you, my dear. I do hope you like it here.”

Henry looked over at Martha, still standing in the doorway, and held out his hand. “My darling,” he smiled. Melanie rolled her eyes and darted out, leaving her parents alone in an embrace. “How was the journey?”

Martha sighed once again. “It is over. That's all that matters. We're home.”

*

*

Melanie balanced precariously on a step-ladder in the library. She reached up and grabbed a tattered dark red book, the title long since worn off. It looked promising, or at least she hoped. She hopped down off the ladder, her auburn curls bouncing. She sank into a large leather armchair and began flipping through the pages. After a few minutes, she threw the book into a large pile of other once promising-looking books and folded her arms over her chest. She didn't know whether she expected her father to have obtained any books about the supernatural or whatever this was, but she didn't really have much of an option except to hope.

She closed her eyes and laid her head against the back of the chair. Hundreds, if not thousands of scenarios for her future had been planned in her head for years. None of them included being trapped alone in a house in Thunder Mesa, California. Her days were filled with thoughts, daydreams and plans on good days, nightmares and fears on bad days. Her nights were filled with the Phantom and his machinations.

Her thoughts turned to Jack. Her thoughts often turned to him, though not as often as she thought they should. He is coming, she told herself. Someday, somehow. He would come, and they would leave. They would go to New York, to Washington, to London, to Paris. It didn't really matter to Melanie where they went, as long as it was away from Thunder Mesa. _He is coming,_ she told herself, _and I will be free_. She sighed, pushed herself with some difficulty out of the chair, and climbed back up the step-ladder.

*

*

_March 1859_

Melanie raced through the dusty streets of Thunder Mesa. She swerved around mule-drawn wagons and in between small gatherings of people. She heard the occasional cries of disapproval but by the time most people noticed Melanie had run into them, she was long gone.

“Mellie, wait up!” Had Melanie looked back, she would have seen a small, anxious blonde girl with braided pigtails trying to wave over the heads of the people Melanie had just nearly knocked over.

But Melanie kept running. “Can't heeeeeeeeeear youuuuuuuu!” she yelled back. The blonde girl's face turned bright red.

“You can _too_ hear me, Mellie! Wait uuuuup!” Melanie chortled to herself and turned right at the end of the town to make her way up the hill toward her home.

Upon reaching Ravenswood Manor, Melanie collapsed on the front porch, buried her head in her arms, and dissolved into laughter. When she finally looked up, she saw the bedraggled blonde girl slowly stumbling up the hill. “Mellie, that's – not – funny,” she whispered between deep breaths.

Melanie laughed again. “Of course it was, Emmy. I'm laughing, see?”

Emmy shook her head. “You – you – are – horrid.”

Melanie beamed and hopped up the steps, two at a time, opening the door and holding it for Emmy. “Après vous, sil vous plait!” Emmy trudged up the stairs, muttering, “Horrid,” under her breath.

The girls walked into the foyer. Muffled shouting seemed to be coming from the direction of Henry's parlor. This was hardly unusual for Henry, however, and both girls knew it. The butler, Jones, quickly walked into the foyer from the direction of the parlor and stopped abruptly upon seeing the girls, nearly dropping his (mercifully empty) tray. “Miss Ravenswood, Miss Hanson! I did not hear you come in,” he said.

“Small wonder,” said Melanie, jerking her head in the direction of the shouting. “Is my mother here?”

Jones replied, “I believe she is devising tonight's menu with Anna in the kit-” The sound of shattering glass in the parlor interrupted Jones's response.

Emmy turned pale, but Melanie clucked her tongue and narrowed her eyes. “Thank you, Jones. I think Mama can wait a moment.” Melanie started toward the parlor. Both Emmy and Jones made motions as if to stop her, but upon reflection realized it was useless. Emmy followed Melanie a few steps behind, knowing her presence usually softened Mr. Ravenswood's temper. No sympathy to be found for his only child, but he did so hate to look bad in front of other people's children.

Melanie threw open the doors to the parlor, finding Henry and Mr. Hanson looking furiously at a small table next to the sofa. Henry turned to fix his glare on his daughter. Emmy, looking over Melanie's shoulder, shrank down behind her, but Melanie was unmoved. “And what, exactly, did that table ever do to you?”

Henry hissed, “This is none of your concern,” just as a head popped up from behind the sofa.

“I assure you, Miss, the table is blameless,” said the man to whom the head belonged. He stood up and dusted himself off. He was tall, with slick black hair and a moustache, and was wearing a light brown suit and a colorful vest with a gold pocket watch chain sticking out of it.

“I do believe it is my concern, Father.” Melanie stuck out a hand to the stranger. “Melanie Ravenswood. Call me Mellie.”

The stranger looked curiously at her, but took her hand gently. “Jack, Jack Whitney. A pleasure, Miss Mellie.” He bent slightly to kiss her hand, but suddenly remembered they were not alone in the room, quickly straightened, and cleared his throat. “We were just discussing the, ah, merits of a transcontinental-”

“Merits!” exclaimed Henry, eyes blazing. “Mr. Whitney is a conman and a thief, and will be doing no business here. Good day, sir.”

“But Mr. Ravenswood, you-”

“OUT!” Right on cue, Jones appeared at the door and quickly guided Jack away.

Henry whipped around to glare at Melanie. He was shaking with rage and looked as though his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Before he could say a word, Emmy peeked over Melanie's shoulder once again. “Hello, Mr. Ravenswood,” she said timidly.

Henry blinked and shook his head quickly, as if to snap himself out of his rage. “Emily, hello, I – I'm sorry you – well, Adam, perhaps you and Emily should-”

“Yes, perhaps we should,” said Mr. Hanson, putting an arm around his daughter's shoulder and firmly steering her toward the door.

“Bye, Mellie,” Emmy said softly, peering over her father's arm with eyes as wide as dinner plates. Melanie waved at Emmy until the Hansons disappeared around the corner.

The moment they were out of sight, Henry grabbed Melanie's shoulder and whirled her around to face him. “What on _earth_ did you think you were doing?”

“Being hospitable,” said Melanie, coolly. “You seemed to have breaking things under control so I thought I'd do the job that needed doing.”

“You had _no right_ , Melanie! It is not your place!”

Melanie scoffed. “You wouldn't be happy until you had me locked in the attic all day and night.”

Henry's eyes narrowed and he jammed a finger into Melanie's collarbone. “Don't you tempt me, Melanie.” Melanie glared straight back into Henry's eyes.

“M-Mr. Ravenswood?” The maid, Anna, was standing in the doorway, looking just about as terrified as Emmy had. “Mrs. Ravenswood asked me to find you for dinner. And you, too, Miss Melanie.”

“We'll be along presently, Anna. Thank you,” smiled Melanie. Her smile disappeared as she turned back to Henry. “It _is_ my place to do exactly as I please, Father, and not you nor anyone else will stop me.” Before he could respond, she turned and stormed out of the parlor.

*

*

Melanie sat at the piano and gingerly played a few notes. The piano had been out of tune for so long, she couldn't really play anything. Still, she liked to sit there and sing to herself. She had so little else to occupy her time. She picked up a stack of old music books and hummed as she flipped through them. She set a book open on the stand and attempted to play.

“Ugh, that's dreadful.”

Melanie's hands fell on the keys. She turned around, looking wild-eyed in every direction. “Who's there? Hello? Who said that?” Shaking, she stood up from the piano bench. “Hello?”

A hand appeared on the door frame opposite the piano, followed by the rest of the maid, Anna. She was glowing faintly, but otherwise looked exactly as Melanie remembered her. She smiled shyly at Melanie and waved. “Hello, Miss Melanie. That piano's quite out of service, I think.”

Melanie couldn't decide if she was more relieved or terrified. She was shaking but she couldn't move herself either to sit or run over to Anna. She couldn't speak but she wanted to scream. She raised her hands, took a breath as if to say something, and then slumped back down on the bench. Anna looked sympathetically at Melanie and moved over to the bench. She was clearly walking but somehow she didn't seem to move at all. “Miss Melanie? Are you alright?”

“I – no, Anna, no, I'm not alright.” Melanie tried to put her head on Anna's shoulder, but went straight through. She shivered and drew back, hugging herself.

“I'm so sorry, Miss Melanie.” Anna's eyes filled with sparkling tears. “I should have done – something, anything. I'm so sorry.”

Melanie, still hugging herself, looked at the floor. Her own dark shoes were almost impossible to make out in the darkened room, but Anna's feet glowed like the rest of her. “There was nothing you could have done. It was me, not you. It's my fault you and Jasper were drawn into this.” Anna looked as if she were about to say something, but she bit her lip and looked down. Melanie continued, “He didn't want either of you, he didn't care. It was me he was trying to hurt. I should have told you, I should have made you leave while you could.”

Melanie's breathing became labored as she remembered. After the Phantom's first attack, Jasper and Anna Jones stayed by her side. Melanie had lost all sense of time ages ago, but it must have been several years that Jasper and Anna continued to take care of her and the house. Jasper, with his indefatigable sense of honor and duty, did his best to protect the women from the Phantom's attacks, which only led to the Phantom taking him first. Melanie could still see his face, hear his screams, as the Phantom dragged him down through the ballroom floor. The Phantom had trapped Melanie in the house, but Anna could still come in and out. Melanie had watched from the window as Anna drew a cross on an empty patch of dirt in the graveyard: the only memorial they could manage. Not long after, the Phantom had come for Anna, too. “Now you are truly alone, Melanie,” his decaying face grinned as he held her face with his bony fingers, forcing her to watch Anna burn.

Melanie gasped at the recollection and buried her face in her arms, folded over her knees. Anna reached out to put her hand on Melanie's shoulder but pulled back, not wanting to chill her again. “Anna, I'm so sorry,” Melanie choked out between sobs. “I'm so sorry.”

Anna knelt down in front of Melanie. “Apologies do neither of us any good now. But I think I can help you, Miss Melanie.”

*

*

_July 1859_

Anna fixed the last of the rosy pink ribbons in Melanie's hair. “There. You look beautiful, Miss Melanie.”

Melanie admired her hair in the mirror. “Anna, you're an angel.” Melanie hopped up and hugged Anna. “Wish me luck!” she chirped over her shoulder as she dashed out of her boudoir.

She bounded down the stairs and into the dining room. Her mother, Martha, was seated at the head of the table, picking at her breakfast. Melanie kissed her cheek. “Morning, Mama!”

Martha looked apprehensively at her daughter. “You're in a good mood.”

Melanie grinned and grabbed a pastry from the basket on the table. “I'm going into town for the day with Emmy. I'll be back for dinner.”

Martha raised her eyebrows. “Mm. Well, don't leave before talking to your father. He invited Mr. Graham and his son-” Melanie interrupted with a groan. Martha sighed, “At least meet him, dear.” Melanie nodded noncommittally, took a bite of the pastry, and waved at her mother as she left the room.

She headed straight for the front door. “Melanie, dear!” She heard her father's voice but did not stop. “Melanie,” he said, more firmly.

She turned around, a challenging smile on her face. “Yes, dear Father?”

Henry's eyes flashed, but he immediately plastered his smile back on his face. “Melanie, you of course remember Mr. John Graham,” he said, gesturing to the thin moustachioed gentleman behind him. Melanie curtsied, more of a rapid bob, and turned back toward the door. “And,” Henry continued, “this is his son, William. William, my daughter Melanie.” William bowed deeply. When he came back up, Melanie raised an eyebrow.

“Pleasure, I'm sure,” she said flatly. William and Henry both turned red, but Melanie merely smiled, opened the door, and walked out.

Melanie got halfway toward the front gate and turned around. She saw her father through the window, apologizing profusely. She chuckled and waited until he glared down out the window. She smiled and waved and Henry responded with his usual livid face. Melanie waited until she turned around again to start laughing and practically skipped down toward Thunder Mesa.

 

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” said Jack Whitney with a dashing grin. He was waiting by a stone wall between the manor and the town with a picnic basket by his feet.

Melanie smiled back. “You as well. How was Utah?”

“Dull.” He picked up the picnic basket with one hand and took Melanie's hand with the other. “But everything's bright now I'm with you again.”

Melanie forced a small laugh. “That was awful.”

Jack smiled and looked up at the town ahead. “Yes, but not entirely untrue.”

They walked through the town to the other side and set up their picnic on the riverbank. “So tell me again,” Melanie said as she pulled plates out from the basket, “what this transcontental railroad thing means.”

“Transcontinental,” corrected Jack, “It means both coasts of the United States will be far more accessible than ever before. We could take it straight to New York if we wanted.”

“And my father is trying to keep it from connecting to Thunder Mesa.”

“He fears the increased traffic will bring competition.”

“Did you point out to him that no one in their right mind would come to Thunder Mesa anyway?”

Jack laughed. “Mellie, not everyone is as fearless around your father as you. He might have a point, you know.”

“He doesn't, though.”

“You don't know that, Mellie.”

“Sure I do.” Melanie flopped onto her stomach. “I don't want to talk about my father anymore. Tell me where you're going to take me.”

Jack, a well-traveled man, told her stories of New York, London, Bombay, and Paris. Melanie listened raptly, imagining these far-off places and making mental to-do lists in all of these cities. The Tower of London, the Great Wall of China, the pyramids at Giza: there was simply nothing in the world she didn't want to see. And Jack promised to take her to see all of it. The only thing standing in their way, of course, was Henry. Henry was adamant that Melanie marry the son of one of his business partners and stay in Thunder Mesa. Melanie was equally adamant that she would do no such thing.

Melanie, lost in daydreams inspired by Jack's stories, had drifted off a bit. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. Jack put an arm around her and kissed her forehead. She stirred a bit, eyes still closed.

“Jack?”

“Mm?”

“What if we just ran away? Right now?”

Jack looked at her with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. “Ran where?”

Melanie opened her eyes and lifted her head to look up at Jack. “Well, you're going to marry me, aren't you?”

Jack chuckled. “Are you proposing to me?”

Melanie shrugged. “We wouldn't have to deal with my father anymore. We'd just be gone.”

Jack sighed, smoothing back his hair and letting his hand rest on the back of his neck. “We can't just do that, Mellie. And besides, I want him to learn to like me. I don't want you to leave on bad terms.”

Melanie folded her arms. “Well, maybe I don't care what you want.”

Jack's eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

Melanie rolled her eyes and flopped down on her back on the picnic blanket. “Hush, you know what I mean. I'm just so tired of him, of everything. I just want to _go_.”

Jack ran his fingers through her hair. “We will, love. Just be patient. Trust me. Right?”

Melanie looked out over the river. “Right.”

 

_February 1860_

The cold wind rattled the windows of the dining room as the Ravenswoods sat in stony silence at the table. Melanie was the only one of the three eating. Henry was glaring at his plate, gripping a fork in his hand so tight his hand was purple. Martha looked warily back and forth between them, occasionally moving her food around with her fork but too nervous to eat. Finally, Martha could take the tension no more. “Henry, please, you must talk to your daughter.”

Melanie's eyes widened as she looked back and forth between her parents, but she continued to eat. Henry let the fork fall with a clatter. “Daughter? I have no daughter. What I have is an ungrateful spoiled little brat.” He spit the last word out with a nasty glare at Melanie.

She smirked back. “And whose fault is that?” Martha put a hand to her forehead. Henry shot up from his seat and threw his napkin on the table.

“Damn you, Melanie, I did not ask you for so much!”

Melanie laughed darkly. “Yes, only that I marry a man I have no interest in and spend the rest of my days cooped up in his cage. Silly me, thinking I had any say in my own life!”

Henry's face turned red. “You have a duty to this family and to me. His father is an important man and without his partnership we could be ruined.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. Martha said, in an attempt to be calming, “Henry, please. We will not be ruined, you know that.”

Henry glared at Martha. “Is everyone against me? Tell me, Martha, how do you think I will be treated if my daughter runs off with some- some- cretin? Would you respect a man who had raised such a stupid girl?” At this, Melanie stood up and left the room without a word.

As she made her way up the stairs, she heard both her parents yelling. She heard her name several times, but whether it was a call to come back or simply an argument about her, she neither knew nor cared. She pulled her already-packed carpet bag out from under her bed, grabbed a hat and coat, and walked out the front door without another word to anyone.

She walked down to the saloon in Thunder Mesa. Jack looked up from the card table, dropped his cards and scrambled over to Melanie, hugging her tightly. “Mellie, are you alright? What are you doing here? What happened?”

Melanie smiled at him. “We're going. Right now.”

 

Jack threw the last trunk on the carriage and hopped up to sit next to Melanie. “Are you sure about this?”

Melanie nodded emphatically. “I have never been so sure about anything. Please, let's just leave.” Jack kissed her, then pulled the horses' reins. They rode in silence for the better part of an hour before Melanie exhaled loudly. Jack looked at her questioningly. “I didn't want to get too complacent until I was sure they weren't following us.”

“Are they not?”

“No,” Melanie said. “They'd have caught up with us fast. We're completely free now.” She grinned and clutched his arm, and he smiled back.

They arrived in Sparrow Gulch in the mid-afternoon. Melanie pet the horses and gave them a few apples while Jack went to get food for himself and Melanie. She looked around the town, watching people going about their daily business and seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She didn't see much reason to stay here any longer than they had to and began thinking about how far they should travel today before stopping somewhere for the night. As Jack returned from the general store, Melanie heard a rumbling sound.

“That hungry, are you?” Melanie said jokingly.

Jack didn't smile. “I think that's...” The ground began to shake and Jack grabbed Melanie's hand and ran into the nearest building.

“What's going on?” yelled Melanie.

“Earthquake!” Jack yelled back. He pulled her under a table and put his arms around her, holding her tight. The table moved around slightly on the shaking floor and residents of the town were screaming and running, looking for things to hide under or behind. Paralyzed with fear, Melanie closed her eyes and pressed her face into Jack's shoulder until the shaking stopped.

They emerged, still shaking, from under the table. Jack brushed Melanie's hair out of her face. “Are you alright, Mellie? Are you hurt?”

“No, I'm fine,” Melanie said. “How bad was it?”

Jack looked around. “I'm not sure.” Some shattered glasses and plates littered the floor, but most of the furniture had remained upright. They went outside and found the streets littered as well. Their carriage toppled over, but the horses, still attached to it, were still there, clearly frightened out of their minds. Melanie tried to calm them down while Jack took stock of their belongings. “Looks like we're stuck here for a little while, until we can get another carriage.”

Melanie sighed. “I suppose we don't have a choice.”

 

That evening, while they ate dinner in the saloon, residents from other towns straggled in. From the stories they brought, it seemed Sparrow Gulch had weathered the best. The earthquake had been widespread and every other town that was hit had been more or less destroyed. Jack had begun to suspect something that Melanie was clearly trying very hard not to think about. It was not until the residents of Thunder Mesa began arriving several hours later that their fears were confirmed. Thunder Mesa had been almost completely destroyed. Melanie tried to look nonchalant as Jack inquired about the specifics, exactly how bad it had been, what was left, what was gone, who made it out.

Melanie knew what Jack was going to say before he said it. After the last Thunder Mesa refugee went to bed, she turned to him and said, “No.”

Jack put a hand on her shoulder. “Mellie, we have to. You know we do.”

“No, we don't. We don't owe them anything and I don't want to know anything about them.”

“It's not about owing anything. It's- Mellie, they're your parents. We have to help them if we can.”

“Why? Why do I have to do anything for them?” Jack sighed but Melanie continued. “If it had been me, alone up there, do you think they'd not be relieved their biggest problem was gone?”

Jack looked at Melanie, faintly surprised. “Do you really think that's how they feel about you?”

Melanie looked down at her hands on the table. “I don't want to go back. Please don't make me.”

Jack took her hands and kissed them. “Mellie, I promise we'll still leave. We're not going back to stay. We just have to tie up this loose end.”

 

Melanie barely slept that night. She couldn't decide if she felt angry, disappointed, betrayed, worried, or scared. She tossed and turned and was wide awake when Jack woke up and started getting ready to leave. She stayed in bed, however, out of spite, until Jack returned with a new carriage. She was silent the whole ride back to Thunder Mesa, though Jack kept squeezing her hand. They arrived in Thunder Mesa and Melanie looked up to the hill on which Ravenswood Manor was. It was clearly the worse for wear, but not entirely destroyed. The shutters hung slack on some of the windows, and on others they were gone altogether. Bits of the roof were missing in spots. There was a large section of wall missing from the attic. And then she saw it; a giant tree had fallen through the dining room. Jack stopped the carriage in front of the house and Melanie jumped down and ran through the front door and back to the dining room. Jack heard her scream and raced in after her. From under the tree, only a leg was visible.

 

_May 1860_

“Mellie, wake up!” Emmy beamed and shook Melanie's shoulders.

Melanie rolled over, shielding her eyes from the sun shining through the open curtains. “Hm?”

Emmy scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Goodness, Mellie, hurry up! You'll be late!”

Melanie rubbed her eyes and stretched. “How can I be late when it can't start without me?”

Emmy smiled and picked up Melanie's wedding dress. “Come on, get up and let me help you into this.”

With Emmy's help, Melanie quickly got dressed. Anna came in as Melanie was admiring herself in the mirror. “Oh, Miss Melanie,” Anna sighed, putting a hand to her chest, “You look so beautiful.” Melanie smiled and ran over to hug Anna. Anna looked mildly surprised, but then hugged her back. “You've been through so much, Miss Melanie. I'm just so happy for you.”

“You've always been so sweet to me, Anna,” said Melanie. “I'm truly grateful.”

Anna wiped a tear from the edge of her eye and shook her head. “Well, we'd best get your hair done. We can't have you late to your own wedding.”

 

Melanie straightened her veil one last time. Emmy took her arm and Anna opened the door, and the three women walked into the hallway together. Melanie peered over the railing and saw Jones pointing some women carrying a large cake toward the dining room. Melanie waved. “Jones! Is it safe?”

Jones looked quizzically at her. “Safe, Miss Melanie?”

“Is Jack down there? He's not supposed to see me yet.”

“No, Miss Melanie, Mr. Whitney is still dressing, I believe.”

Melanie bounded down the stairs with Emmy and Anna racing behind her trying to keep her from stepping on her veil. “Everything looks wonderful, Jones,” said Melanie, beaming as she looked around at the ballroom filled with guests. Jones bowed his head. Melanie looked at the clock and groaned. “How will I wait twenty more minutes?” Jones nodded in the direction of a man holding a tray of champagne glasses, and the man quickly stepped over. “Jones, what ever would I do without you?” smiled Melanie as she lifted a glass.

 

Thirty minutes later, Melanie folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Are suits really so difficult?”

Emmy placed a comforting arm on Melanie's shoulder. “I'm sure he'll be out any minute.” Emmy glanced warily at Jones, who quietly edged out of the room in order to check on Jack. A tree branch blown by the wind rapped on the window, causing Melanie to jump slightly. “It's just nerves, Mellie,” said Emmy, trying to sound sure of herself. “Everything will be perfectly fine.”

 

An hour later, Jones re-entered the hall, looking panicked. He edged through the guests and tapped Anna on the shoulder, said something quietly to her, and they both looked warily at Melanie. Emmy was still trying to talk to Melanie to keep her mind occupied, but Melanie had only one thing on her mind. Melanie noticed Jones and Anna and began to ask, “What is it?” when the doors to the hallway slammed shut behind them. All the candles blew out and the tree branch began rapping on the window again. A chill blew through the air, and a cold, menacing laughter filled the room.

“Who's there?” yelled Melanie.

“Where is he, Melanie?” said the voice to which the laughter belonged. He laughed again and Melanie frowned.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

A decaying, skeletal corpse dressed in a top hat and a cape appeared in the window. “It is over, Melanie. There is nothing left for you here.”

Melanie scowled. “What are you talking about?”

The Phantom said, “Jack is not coming. You are alone.”

“He is coming,” yelled Melanie bitterly.

The Phantom laughed. “This world no longer holds anything for you. You have nothing. Nothing, unless you choose me.”

“And if I refuse?” Melanie said evenly, trying to hide her confusion and fear.

The Phantom turned to Emmy, whose eyes widened as she slowly backed away from him. He clapped his hands and Emmy disappeared in a puff of red smoke. “EMMY!” shrieked Melanie. “What have you _done_?” She attempted to hit the Phantom but his skeletal hand gripped her arm.

“You wanted a choice, Melanie. Here it is. Choose me or suffer.” Melanie tried to scream and hit him again, but the Phantom disappeared.

Melanie breathed heavily and looked around. She saw Anna and Jones and all the other guests, and was momentarily relieved, but then she realized Emmy was still gone. “Emmy? Jack?” Melanie fell to her knees on the floor. “What's happening? Where is everyone?” She looked up at Anna with tears streaming down her face. “What's happening?” Anna rushed over and threw her arms around Melanie. Melanie only looked blankly into space, muttering, “What's happening?” over and over. The grandfather clock in the hall began to chime, and did not stop.

*

*

Melanie sat in a chair at the long table in the ballroom. She knew from experience that trying to hide from the Phantom never worked, so she didn't try anymore. She straightened her back and put her arms on the table, and looked up at the windows. The sun had nearly set and he would be here at any moment. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes as the grandfather clock started to chime.

The last rays of sunlight left the room and immediately the candles on the table lit up, illuminating the skeletal face of the Phantom across the table. “Good evening, Melanie,” he said as he poured a glass of red wine. Melanie glared at him and said nothing. The Phantom chuckled to himself. “I take it you have not reconsidered.” Melanie's face was still as stone. “It's a shame, truly. I take no pleasure in holding you prisoner, you know.”

Melanie burst out a derisive laugh. “Of course you do, you love this. It's all you ever wanted.”

The Phantom leaned forward slightly. “My dear, you wound me. All I ever wanted was your happiness.”

Melanie pounded a fist on the table, her voice shaking with anger tinged with fear as she responded. “No, you wanted me to do whatever you asked without a word, you wanted me to be your puppet and make _you_ happy, you never cared about me. I will not give up, Father, I will not go with you. Not ever. If I must be stuck in this house forever, so be it, but I never did nor will I ever let you control me.”

The Phantom took a sip of wine and shrugged. “You won't be happy here. You think I wanted to trap you, but all I wanted was to make sure you were doing what was right. You could have been happy. You got in your own way.”

Melanie's eyes were full of tears. “I wouldn't be happy with you, either,” she whispered.

The Phantom stood up and walked over to her end of the table. He stood behind her chair, leaned over her shoulder, and whispered, “Then there is no happiness for you anywhere. And by resisting me, you are merely constructing your own prison.” He whipped around and as he disappeared, the chandelier lit up and the party began as it did every night. The table was full of food, beautiful couples whirled around the dance floor, and Melanie Ravenswood stared blankly into space as well-wishers came through the door to congratulate her on a marriage that never took place.

She felt as if there was a pile of bricks on her chest, over the gaping empty hole that used to have her heart in it. She felt as if her stomach was a bottomless pit. Her fingers were numb but she could see her hands shaking. She had not stopped thinking about what Anna had suggested; perhaps the Phantom could only keep her trapped as long as she lived.

Suddenly, a familiar laugh caught her attention. She snapped to attention and looked up. Jack was standing at the bottom of the stairs, talking to some guests. He looked over at her and smiled. Melanie felt a lump in her throat. She stood up with difficulty and limped slowly over to him, using any stable surface along the way as a crutch. Knowing what to expect, she reached out to touch him, but her hand passed right through him. The tears fell from her eyes and Jack's smile faded as he put his hand on her cheek. All she felt was the cold as he asked if she was alright. Suddenly Jack gasped and Melanie opened her eyes. He was gasping for air and his hands flew to his neck. Melanie looked around but no one else seemed to notice; even the people Jack had been speaking to seemed not to have noticed his absence. Jack's ghost was choking to death right in front of her but there was nothing she could do. She sank down against the staircase, sobbing, as Jack collapsed in front of her. She reached out to him but still could not touch him. She heard the Phantom's laughter and looked up to see him standing above her on the staircase. “ _Stop it,_ ” she said, her voice thick and raspy. “STOP IT! Leave me ALONE, you have _no-_ you have _no right_ ,” she screamed through choking sobs. The Phantom continued to laugh.

Melanie ran out of the ballroom and up to the attic. She took deep breaths, trying to steady her sobs. “Maybe...” she remembered Anna's hesitant words, “Maybe he can only keep you here as long as...as you're...alive, Miss Melanie.” She closed her eyes. She saw New York, London, Bombay, and Paris in her head. She saw Jack, ducking from her father's projectile glassware, smiling and laughing with a summer breeze in his hair, choking and dying in front of her. She opened her eyes and looked over at the opening where the wall was before the earthquake. She took a deep breath and stepped toward it.

+

+

“Mellie, wake up!”

Melanie rolled over to see Emmy, beaming, with the sun shining brightly through the open curtains behind her. “Hm?” murmured Melanie, her hand shielding her face from the sun.

Emmy scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Goodness, Mellie, hurry up! You'll be late!” Melanie gaped, wide-eyed, at Emmy. Suddenly she catapulted herself toward Emmy and hugged her tightly around the waist, knocking Emmy's breath out of her. “Oof!”

“Oh Emmy, I had the most awful dream,” Melanie whispered.

Emmy put a hand on Melanie's head. “It's alright, Mellie, it was just a dream. Now, come on, get up and let me help you into that dress.”

Anna arrived when Melanie had finished dressing. She put a hand to her chest and sighed, “Oh, Miss Melanie, you look so beautiful.” Melanie rushed over to Anna and hugged her tightly. Anna, mildly surprised, said, “You've been through so much, Miss Melanie.”

“Oh, Anna,” Melanie half-laughed, “You have no idea.”

Anna looked vaguely confused, but smiled, and said, “Well, we'd best get your hair done. We can't have you late to your own wedding.”

 

Melanie straightened her veil, smiling with relief at her own reflection. Anna opened the door, Melanie took Emmy's arm, and they walked out into the hallway. Melanie leaned over the railway and waved at Jones, who was busy directing traffic to and from the kitchen and ballroom. “Jones, is it safe?”

“Safe, Miss Melanie?”

“Is Jack down there? He's not supposed to see me yet.”

“No, Miss Melanie, Mr. Whitney is still dressing, I believe.”

Melanie leaped down the stairs, Anna and Emmy behind her trying to keep her veil from tripping her. “Everything looks beautiful, Jones,” said Melanie, beaming.

“As do you.” Jack walked in from the foyer, smiling at Melanie.

“You can't see me!” exclaimed Melanie, hitting Jack's shoulder.

Jack chuckled. “I can, and you're beautiful.” Jack wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

Melanie pulled back and put her hands on either side of Jack's face. “You have no idea how happy I am to be here with you,” Melanie said, softly.

“I think I have an idea,” said Jack, brushing a stray hair off her face.

Jones cleared his throat. “Might we begin the ceremony?”

Melanie grinned. “Yes, I think we just might.”

 

The ceremony was beautifully done, Melanie thought, although she was not paying attention. She was prodded into responses occasionally, but parroting what the minister said was not difficult, nor did it require active thought. But surely it must have been beautiful. Everything sounded far away, as if she were hearing everything through a pillow over her head, until the words, “I now pronounce you...” She leaned in toward Jack and closed her eyes.

The clock in the hallway began to chime.

Melanie opened her eyes.

A familiar laughter filled the air.

“No, no, no,” Melanie's voice quavered and she flung herself toward Jack, hoping that keeping a hold on him would keep her safe. She turned around and instead of Jack's face, she saw the Phantom's leering down at her and laughing. She screamed and shoved him away. The rest of the room faded into darkness as the Phantom's skeletal form advanced on her.

“Did you really think it would be so easy?” Melanie couldn't bring herself to speak. The Phantom continued, “There is no escape from me, Melanie. You are powerless. If you will not come with me willingly, I can make you.” Melanie turned to run but the floor opened up beneath her. She fell into darkness with nothing but the sound of the Phantom's laughter and the chiming clock all around her.

+

+

Melanie opened her eyes to a blood-red sky. She stood up, shaking dust from her dress. She looked at her hands, realizing she was glowing. She looked around at the town of Thunder Mesa. Except it was not Thunder Mesa – not exactly. Something was off. She looked around. She saw no one, heard nothing but the wind. “Hello?” she yelled to the empty streets.

She walked toward the saloon, where the faint sounds of music and raucous laughter came through the closed door. She opened the door and saw the residents of Thunder Mesa, almost as she remembered them, dancing, singing, drinking, and playing cards. On her left, the mayor was laughing and drinking with Mr. Hanson. The mayor turned to her and tipped his hat – only his head came off with his hat. Stifling a scream, she backed into a table where some men were playing cards. “Hey, watch out!” yelled one, his decaying jaw coming unhinged. Melanie stumbled back out into the streets. An explosion sent a puff of smoke up a chimney across the street, and she looked through the window to see a scientist pouring something from one vial into another. He drank the potion, looked directly at Melanie, and began to change form into a giant, hulking beast. She turned to run but across the street she saw the Phantom.

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. The Phantom gave a cavalier shrug. “Well, what do you think?” Melanie merely glared at him. “You'll have to get used to it,” he said nonchalantly. “I know what will lift your- spirits,” the Phantom chuckled. He gestured to Ravenswood Manor at the top of the hill, intact, as it had been before the earthquake. “How would you like to come home, Melanie?”

The Phantom walked up to Melanie, who continued to stand completely still and glare. “My dear, the game is over. You have lost, and I am in charge here. Now, I will not ask you nicely again. Come with me.” He grabbed her wrist and attempted to drag her up the street. She struggled and dug her feet into the ground, using all her strength to pull herself away from him.

“NO!” she screamed as she wrenched herself away from him. She quickly scrambled to her feet and ran toward the Manor, not looking back to see if the Phantom was following her.

 

Instead of heading for the front door, she ran around the side and threw open the doors to the wine cellar. None of the lanterns were lit and the cellar was pitch-black. Her own faint glow didn't quite illuminate anything; it was more like shining a flashlight in her own eyes than out around her. She felt around for a moment, looking for anything recognizable, when suddenly, a blue light shone at the other end of the room. It called to her in a familiar voice. Melanie squinted and walked slowly toward it. “Melanie,” called a voice from the direction of the light. As Melanie got closer, the light took on a definite shape. Melanie gasped as she recognized it. “Mama?”

Martha Ravenswood smiled at her daughter and held out her glowing hands. “My dear girl,” she said, soothingly. Melanie fell toward her mother and hugged her tightly, dissolving into sobs. Martha put an arm around her and stroked her hair. “All is not lost, my love.”

“It is, though,” sobbed Melanie. “It's over, he's won.”

“No, Melanie. He can never win, not as long as you keep resisting him.”

Melanie looked blankly over her mother's shoulder. “What if I can't, Mama? What if I can't keep fighting?”

Martha put her hands on Melanie's shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. “You can, Melanie. And you won't be alone.”

 

Melanie walked out into the garden. She saw the Phantom pouring himself a cup of tea in the gazebo. “Father,” she said, coolly. The Phantom glanced up at her. “Care to join me, dear?”

“No,” Melanie said, smiling.

The Phantom looked at her quizzically. “Is something amusing you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

The Phantom waited, but Melanie did not continue. He twitched impatiently. “Well?”

Smiling, Melanie took a step toward the Phantom. “You only have power over me if I believe you do. And, I'm sure you remember, I never did.” The Phantom stood up, looking at Melanie uncertainly as she proceeded toward him. Melanie continued, “I will never give you power over me. And I want you to remember this, wherever you go from here; you lost.”

Melanie grabbed his arm and Martha materialized on the other side of the Phantom to grab his other arm. “No,” he said, imperatively at first, but pleadingly as he continued. “No, _no,_ NO, NO!” They dragged him up the hill, behind the house, toward the empty casket under the headstone reading “HENRY RAVENSWOOD.” They pushed him into the casket and Martha raised her hands, and a wall of blue light surrounded the casket. Martha and Melanie stepped back as the wall of light closed in on the screaming Phantom, pushing him further and further down into the ground. Finally, the ground rumbled and closed in over him, the lights disappeared, and all was silent.

Melanie and Martha looked at each other for a moment, then let out breaths they didn't know they were holding and hugged each other. “I'm so proud of you,” said Martha.

Melanie opened her mouth as if to speak, but the sky was darkening. “Mama?” said Melanie uncertainly. The world around her seemed to melt like a chalk drawing in the rain. Melanie reached out blindly. “Mama!” Everything went dark.

+

+

Melanie opened her eyes. She was on the floor of the ballroom in Ravenswood Manor, still wearing her wedding dress. She looked around and saw no one. She stood up and walked into the hallway. The grandfather clock was smashed to pieces, but everything else looked just as she had left it. She walked through the rooms of the house, not finding anything different, but unsure of what else to do. She walked into the foyer and looked out the window next to the front door. The house had, until this moment, been silent, but just then she heard a groan from what appeared to be a wall. She put a hand up to it uncertainly, and the wall slid aside. She stepped inside.

It was a room she either never knew about or had forgotten. Portraits of her adorned the walls, and dripping candles held by gargoyles illuminated the room. A faint blue glow appeared in a corner of the room. “Mama?” Melanie asked.

The glow took shape. “No, but I hope I don't disappoint.”

Melanie ran toward the ghost of Jack Whitney and kissed him. He held her tightly as tears ran down both their faces. “Oh, Jack, where were you?”

“I don't...remember...” he said, hesitatingly. “What exactly is going on?”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

He frowned in deep thought. “Your father, I think. I was dressing for our- oh, Mellie, our wedding!”

Melanie shook her head. “What did my father do?”

“He had a rope...I don't quite remember.”

Melanie glanced up for the first time. “Ah,” she said, pointing to the ceiling, where a skeleton hung from the rafters.

Jack's eyes widened. “Are we...?” Melanie nodded. Jack sank down against a wall.

“I think we can leave now, though.” Melanie smiled at Jack. “We really can go anywhere we want now.” Jack looked at Melanie with disbelief. She grinned and stuck her hand through a wall. “See?” They both laughed. Melanie hopped up and extended her hand to Jack. “Come on. You promised you had a cafe in Paris to show me.”

Jack took her hand, stood up, and put his arms around her waist. “That I did.” They kissed, then walked out of the room toward the foyer, the wall sliding in place behind them. Hand-in-hand, they stepped through the front door.


End file.
